


darkest part of me

by HaleyProtega282



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Addiction, Angst, Cravings, Damon is an enabler, Gen, Guilt, Oneshot, POV Stefan Salvatore, Relapse, Relapsing, Ripper Stefan Salvatore, Sort Of, Stefan Salvatore-centric, Stefan needs a hug, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, blood addict Stefan Salvatore, but he means well, hints of defan if you squint... really hard, how is that not a tag?, trigger warning: addiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:49:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28214241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaleyProtega282/pseuds/HaleyProtega282
Summary: A one-shot about Stefan struggling for control.
Kudos: 7





	darkest part of me

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song Devil Inside by Citizen Soldier (which is just perfection, go check it out ^.^ ).

_Tap tap tap._

Crimson droplets hit the fabric, already drenched in blood, still hot, soaking through his clothes and vibrating with an echo of a pulse. Stefan licks his lips, mind already whirling through the red haze, flooding him with guilt and panic.

No. Why why why was this happening again?

_Because you're an addict. Because you have no control._

_._

He had had control though. Sort of. When Damon was here earlier that evening, being all confident of his plan to ease his younger brother into feeding on human blood. "It's all gonna be fine, Stef. Easy peasy. I mean, every vamp has trouble at first, but you can't live off bunnies forever - you might grow a fluffy little tail."

At first. As if Stefan hadn't spent decades trying to master control. He should be good at this by now. _If you were normal_ , a voice in his head chides.

Still, Damon's flippant attitude was making him nostalgic, his mind dredging up memories from before 1864, when they were young, and human, and happy. Before all the fighting. It made him want to burry the hatchet again, and since it was rarely Damon to try and patch things up, Stefan couldn't refuse.

A while of sipping from blood bags, and bourbon to calm his nerves, he was feeling almost hopeful himself. Alright, that might be due to the bourbon - how the hell does Damon drink that much and stay coherent? Even vampiric tolerance has its limits. He watches his brother make terrible pop culture references, tell tacky jokes and (probably) exaggerated tales of the last sorority he partied with. He had missed this.

But all too soon Damon's getting up, saying something about beauty sleep while patting his shoulder, and then he's out the door. Stefan can't shake the restlessness, the uneasy feeling that hits him like a brick falling on him, settling in his stomach. _The hunger._ He shakes his head, pacing around the room. No. He'd had a blood bag, he's fine.

Except he's not. Anxiety morphs into craving and beats through his veins like a vice. He catches a glimpse of himself in the window, the dark protruding capillaries under his eyes - he hadn't even noticed his features changing into his vampire face. He runs a hand over it, as if he could wipe away the monster.

He tries to focus on introspection. He's feeling... abandoned...? Why? They hadn't fought for a change, nobody ended up vervained or with a broken neck - as far as the Salvatore brothers were concerned, that was a victory. So why then did Damon leaving have such an effect on him? They had been apart for decades and he was - well, relatively fine. At peace, as much as he could, considering what he is, what he'd done... Flashes of his Ripper years come haunting again, before he pushes those thoughts aside. He can't dwell on it, it will drive him insane.

 _It's the blood._ Blood, thick and red, calling to him. _Not enough, not nearly enough._ He feels the fantom rhythm of a pulse beckoning, like a siren song lullabying him to his doom.

"No", he mutters to himself, pacing again. It's bad, it's really bad. He's running his hands through his hair, cursing Damon and his easy attitude. Stefan can't do this, he can't do "normal" (if that term can even be applied to vampires). There was good reason he'd spent decades starving himself, surviving off of just enough animal blood to sustain him. It was the only way he had some semblance of control. Breaking the routine meant no rules, no rules meant no limits, no limits... meant lots and lots of corpses.

His eyes closed, he zeroes in on a heartbeat, less than half a mile away. He shouldn't even be able to detect it from that distance, but all his senses are sharpened, buzzing with the thrum of a reawakened volcano. The lava licks at his insides, demanding the thirst to be quenched. His fists shake as he tries to maintain composure. He can't, he shouldn't... Breath coming quick and trembling, it's getting more difficult to ignore: the rush of hot blood pulsing, a drumming heartbeat - a jogger probably. Who runs at these hours? And in the woods? Really, really bad idea...

Before he even decides on it, he's blurring through the trees, instinct dragging him to his prey, all rational thought suppressed under the crashing waves of bloodlust.

.

It's not until the faint _tap tap tap_ of blood dripping slowly works through his stupor and his own personal hell begins again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Stay safe!
> 
> xoxo,
> 
> Haley


End file.
